The Hours
by L. Winfree
Summary: (Includes Character Anachronisms) She thinks the past is behind her -- that her crazed ex-husband is gone and she's safe. Only she's wrong, and his return could not only cost her life, but that of her partner, Mike Logan, as well. (Includes X-Files cha


The Hours By L. Winfree and J. Salonen **  
  
June  
  
Apartment of Mike Logan and Caitlin Falconetti New York City Saturday 8:13 a.m.  
  
Warm summer morning sunlight trickled in between the half-closed blinds, spilling in silvery white lines on the floor. Waking slowly, Mike Logan opened his eyes, gave a low groan, and threw an arm over his eyes. Next to him, Caitlin snuggled closer into the warmth of his body with a soft, satisfied sigh, and Mike smiled despite himself. He loved waking up with her. Stretching, he wrapped an arm around his wife and dropped a light kiss on her slightly parted lips. "Good morning."  
  
"Good morning," Caitlin murmured her reply drowsily, her lips curving up into a soft smile. She rolled into him, her hand splayed over his bare stomach. "What are your plans for today?"  
  
Mike buried a hand in her thick, dark hair. "You mean long term, or right this minute?" he chuckled, his voice muffled against her neck.  
  
"I meant long term," Caitlin clarified, idly tracing patterns on his stomach and chest with a fingernail. "But short term could be interesting. . ."  
  
"I'll bet," Mike growled, stretching pleasurably under her questing fingers. He kissed her neck, letting his teeth graze her skin lightly. "Long term for today? I'm supposed to play a couple of games with Profaci at the Y." He eased his mouth over her collar bone, her skin slightly salty against his tongue. "And I thought I'd get the oil changed in your car." Leaning over her, Mike eased the thin satin straps of her nightgown down her arms, his mouth following the lowered neckline. "I guess we could go out tonight."  
  
"And right now?" Caitlin asked shakily, smothering a moan in her throat as Mike's teasing mouth moved lower, her short nails digging lightly into his waist.  
  
Lifting his head, Mike smiled down at her, a wickedly teasing smile. "Right now? Right now, I thought I'd seduce my wife..."  
  
Caitlin laughed huskily, cupping his face in her hands and tugging his mouth down to hers, kissing him hungrily. "And you're doing a damned good job of it, too..."  
  
**  
  
"So. . ." Lying on her stomach, Caitlin smiled against the glistening skin of Mike's shoulder. "How does it feel to be an old married man? Are you ready to trade me in for a younger model?"  
  
Mike chuckled, feeling pleasantly exhausted. "We haven't been married a year yet, Cait. Ask me that after forty years, okay?" Levering up on his elbow, he grinned down at her, brushing the damp hair back from her face. "You can ask me that?" he asked incredulously. "After what we just did?"  
  
Caitlin laughed, the sound sliding into a tender smile. She stroked a finger over his temple gently. "You know, I never thought I could be this happy. Ever."  
  
Mike nodded, warmed by her admission, thankful that she was returning to her old self, recovering from the grief of her oldest brother's unexpected death in a boating accident that spring. "Yeah," he chuckled, "tell me about it." Rising from the bed, he leaned down and pulled her up to him, kissing her hard, greedily. "You're everything, Cait," Mike whispered, hunger spearing through him again. He grinned down at her lopsidedly as she wrapped her arms and legs around him tightly. "C'mon," he said, leering at her playfully and lifting her easily. "Let's go take a shower."  
  
**  
  
"Hey," Mike leaned over Caitlin at the island and picked up her coffee cup, taking a quick swallow. He dropped a soft kiss on her shoulder, easing his hand down her arm, the white satin of her robe sliding easily under his touch. "If you need to go anywhere today, take a cab. I'm gonna take the Mustang in to have the oil changed, remember?"  
  
"Mm-hmm," Caitlin murmured, flipping her newspaper over to the arts and entertainment section.  
  
"What are you doing today?" he asked, helping himself to a bite of her toast.  
  
"Um... I've got a case to look at. And we need food, in case you haven't noticed," she replied wryly, leaning back slightly into his warmth.  
  
"Want me to go with you later?" Mike offered, wrapping his arms around her from behind, kissing her ear. "I will if-"  
  
"Go," Caitlin laughed. Turning in his arms, she kissed him quickly and pushed him toward the door. "Have a good time. I'll see you later, and we'll go out and do something fun tonight."  
  
Leaning down, Mike kissed her again, chuckling against her mouth. "I can think of something fun we could do-"  
  
Caitlin gave him another gentle push. "Go."  
  
Laughing, Mike went, and Caitlin heard the door close behind him, the lock clicking into place. She was immediately aware of how quiet and empty their home seemed without his presence, and Caitlin smiled to herself. She was pathetically, hopelessly, in love with Mike Logan. And she loved every damned minute of it.  
  
The doorbell rang, and Caitlin slid off the stool, laughing as she went to throw open the door. "What did you do, forget your bag-" She stopped in shocked surprise when she saw who was standing in the hall. "Faith? Oh, my God, what's wrong?"  
  
Angrily, Faith knuckled away the tears smearing her face. "I..." She sighed. "I had a fight with Rey. I...I just needed to get out for a while."  
  
Sighing, Caitlin pulled her friend into the foyer, biting her tongue against the biting words her mind conjured up about Rey Curtis. "Where are the girls?" she asked quietly, handing Faith a tissue from the box on the small table by the living room door.  
  
Faith sniffled, wiping at her eyes. "Chloe's at a play date. And his girls are with Deb."  
  
The way Faith spat out the name told Caitlin what the couple had argued about. "Okay," she said firmly, pushing Faith toward the kitchen. "Go get some coffee while I dress." She smiled suddenly, lighting her green eyes, hiding the anger at Rey. "We're going shopping."  
  
Faith laughed, obediently heading for the kitchen. "You think that's the answer to everything, don't you?"  
  
"You mean it's not?" Caitlin asked, playfully aghast. "Trust me, it'll make you feel better." She disappeared into the bedroom.  
  
Faith poured herself a cup of coffee and took it to the bedroom, sipping the hot, rich liquid. "Where's Mike?"  
  
"Playing basketball at the Y," Caitlin replied, her voice muffled in the walk-in closet. She appeared, tugging a white T-shirt on over her black slacks. "He'll be gone all day." Adding a light sea-foam green cardigan, she stepped into her shoes, tossing Faith a grin over her shoulder. "He's worried about that midriff pudge he's getting. He's so cute."  
  
Faith stared into her coffee, a brief stab of jealousy tearing through her. Caitlin's relationship with Mike was so damned easy. And then she pushed the envy away, remembering how devastated Caitlin had been when Mike had moved out for those two days in December. Maybe not always so easy, Faith thought soberly. "I should go home," she said quietly. "I don't really have the extra cash to go shopping. And Rey wouldn't like it."  
  
Caitlin looked at her wryly. "So we'll window-shop. Or you can go to the grocery store with me," she said easily then sighed. "And do you do everything based on Rey's approval?"  
  
"Cait, please-"  
  
"I'm serious, Faith," Caitlin interrupted quietly. She shrugged. "I know you love him. I know being with him makes you happy." She tried not to stumble over those words, finding them incredibly hard to say. "But, Faith, you've never let anyone tell you what to do. Why start now?"  
  
Indeed, Faith's inner self asked insistently. Why start now? "Okay," she gave in, almost reluctantly, sighing. "Let's go."  
  
**  
  
The Three Witches New York City 12:47 p.m.  
  
"What is the problem?" Caitlin demanded gently, pushing away her half-eaten Cobb salad. Smiling, she leaned across the table, tugging playfully on Faith's hair. "Trust me. You'll feel better if you talk about it."  
  
She probably would, Faith thought miserably, but telling Caitlin wouldn't be easy, either. Giving in to the need to tell someone, Faith sighed roughly, "Rey wants a baby."  
  
Caitlin blinked, startled by the painful constriction of her lungs. How could such a simple little word, baby, cause so much hurt? Simply because she couldn't have one, Caitlin thought. Pushing away her own hurt, she gazed steadily at Faith. "What do you want?"  
  
"I don't know," Faith admitted, nervously twisting her napkin in her hands. "I wanted the baby," she said softly, grief for the baby she'd miscarried evident in her voice. "Once I got used to the idea, that is. But to actually try to get pregnant?" Faith shrugged, glancing up at Caitlin. "I just don't know. I mean, there's Chloe and Rey's girls and-"  
  
"And the fact he's not even divorced yet," Caitlin interrupted wryly, and Faith frowned at her.  
  
"And my job," Faith pointed out, ignoring Caitlin's comment. "I just don't know if I'm ready to be a stay-at-home mother. I like my job," she said in a small voice.  
  
"Rey wants you to quit?" Caitlin asked, surprised. She lifted her eyebrows at the guilty way Faith looked away. This was the first time she'd heard of this. Granted, she had not been focusing on Faith's personal life, either, in trying to deal with her own grief over Vince's death. She'd spent weeks after his funeral in a daze, responding only to Mike. Guiltily, she wondered if Faith had needed her support and not received it during that time.  
  
Faith shrugged again, brushing back her hair. "He ... he thinks I don't spend enough time with Chloe," she replied quietly. "And it's hard, sometimes, when we're juggling her and his kids, too."  
  
"So why doesn't he quit and stay home?" Caitlin snapped, irritated by Rey's assumption that it was Faith's place to sacrifice her career. "Oh, I forgot," she said mockingly. "He's a man."  
  
"Cait ..." Faith warned, unwilling to admit she'd had to stop herself from throwing the same suggestion at Rey herself that morning. "It's not like that. He's not like that."  
  
"Then how is it, Faith?" Caitlin asked. Taking Faith's hand, she looked at her earnestly. "Faith, you've worked so hard to get where you are. Don't let him take it away, okay?"  
  
Blinking back sudden tears, Faith pulled her hand away. "I've got to go," she whispered. "I'm supposed to pick Chloe up at two-thirty."  
  
Sudden contrition surged through Caitlin at the hurt look on Faith's face. She shouldn't let her apathy for Rey Curtis effect her friendship with Faith. "Faith, wait. Listen-"  
  
"I've got to go," Faith repeated, then smiled down at Caitlin; the expression seeming a little forced. "It's okay, Cait. Don't worry about me. It'll all work out. We're together now, just like I wanted. Everything's going to be fine." The words sounded like a well-rehearsed refrain, and Caitlin wondered how often Faith repeated them to herself. Leaning down, Faith hugged Caitlin quickly, a warm gesture. "I'll call you."  
  
"Yeah," Caitlin whispered, feeling suddenly depressed as she watched Faith hurry from the restaurant. "You do that."  
  
**  
  
Apartment of Faith Morrison 9:56 p.m.  
  
Faith hung up her coat, sighing tiredly. It had been a long day, and now Chloe was probably in bed asleep. She'd missed another bedtime story with her daughter because her beeper had gone off late in the afternoon, Mike calling her in to look at new evidence on one of their cases. Sometimes she wondered if this was really worth it. Maybe she should just give in, do what Rey wanted. Maybe she should just quit her job, get pregnant again and be a stay-at-home mother.  
  
Rey was sitting on the couch, flipping through the channels. He didn't glance up at her entrance into the room. Faith leaned over the couch, kissing him quickly on the cheek. "Hey."  
  
"I put Chloe to bed," he said tightly, still not looking at her, and Faith frowned at his terse tone. "Rana had to leave early."  
  
"I'm sorry," she said quietly, coming around to sit beside him. "Mike and I got tied up trying to get in touch with the DEA about a case and then traffic was-"  
  
"She needs you at home with her, Faith," Rey snapped, moving a few inches away from her. "She needs a mother."  
  
"She has a mother," Faith retorted sharply, stung by his criticism. "She has me. I do the best I can, Rey. Just because I don't stay at home like Deb-"  
  
"Deb has nothing to do with it," Rey said irritably, jumping up to pace the room edgily. He raked a hand through his short hair. "This has to do with you and how you're raising Chloe. This is no good for her, Faith. She never sees you; she spends all her time with a babysitter-"  
  
"She's my daughter, Rey," Faith said coldly, getting up and stalking into the kitchen. Pulling a glass from the cabinet, she poured herself a heavy dose of vodka. "I'll raise her how I see fit. Look, I don't tell you how to raise your girls; you don't tell me how to raise Chloe." Draining her glass, she walked by him into the bedroom, shutting the door, shutting him out.  
  
**  
  
11:05 p.m.  
  
With a weary groan, Mike slipped his coat on and pushed his chair up to his desk, flipping off his desk lamp. Faith had gone an hour ago, but Mike had stayed to finish going through the crime reports, looking for other cases that might match their shootings. He'd been unsuccessful.  
  
Idly jingling his car keys in his hand, Mike headed for the outside. Even this late, the hall was crowded, and Mike ran into Profaci coming in the door.  
  
Profaci grinned his irrepressible grin. "Hey, Mikey! Where you headed?"  
  
Pausing at the top of the steps, Mike returned the grin. "Home to Caitlin."  
  
To Mike, the three words said it all.  
  
**  
  
"Caitlin?" Mike locked the door behind him, moving into the darkened living room.  
  
"In here," her husky voice answered from the bedroom, and Mike followed, stripping off his tie as he went. Caitlin was lounging on the bed, on top of the covers, watching television.  
  
"Hey," Mike stopped in the doorway, watching her as he tugged off his jacket. She looked up at him and smiled, the intimate smile that belonged to him alone.  
  
"Hey, yourself." Her eyes trailed over the tense sag of his shoulders. "I missed you."  
  
"Yeah, you, too," Mike answered, tossing his jacket across the chair and dropping onto the bed next to her. He glanced at the television. "What are you watching?"  
  
"Indiscreet," she replied, caressing the nape of his neck. "Ingrid Bergman and Cary Grant."  
  
He watched the screen for a few moments then turned his attention back to her, dropping his head to kiss her bare shoulder. "What's it about?"  
  
Caitlin sighed, loving the feel of his mouth on her skin. "I've only seen this a dozen times. He's pretending to be married and having an affair with her. She just found out and is setting him up to find her with another man."  
  
"Nice," Mike murmured, sliding the strap of her nightgown down her arm, and his lips traced the sagging neckline. Easing her back down on the bed, he pushed the other strap out of the way, and Caitlin slipped her arms out of both. Levering up on his elbows, Mike smiled down at her as she began slowly unbuttoning his shirt. When she was done, Caitlin slid her hands inside and beneath his undershirt.  
  
"I really, really missed you today," she whispered, her hands stroking over his stomach and chest. She tugged his undershirt free of his waistband, and Mike shrugged out of his dress-shirt and pulled the white T-shirt over his head.  
  
"I can tell," Mike chuckled, bending his head to kiss her, almost fiercely. Wrapping her arms around his shoulders, Caitlin pulled him closer, opening her mouth under his. His tongue dueling with hers, Mike groaned into her mouth as she slipped her fingers into the waistband of his slacks. Mike pulled his mouth from hers, pressing kisses down the smooth skin of her neck. "God, I love you," he muttered hoarsely, levering up on an elbow to gaze down at her as he eased his fingers under the silk of her panties. He loved watching her eyes, her face, as she responded to his touch.  
  
Caitlin smiled, arching into him as she dug her nails lightly into his shoulders. "Really?" she whispered, breathless, need tightening in her, the sharp sting of arousal sparking through her stomach.  
  
Mike nodded, eyes intent on her face, watching the pleasure and desire bloom in her eyes. "Definitely."  
  
Tangling a hand in his hair, Caitlin tugged him down to her, kissing him hungrily and whispering against his mouth, "So show me."  
  
**  
  
Sated, Mike curved an arm around Caitlin, his hand splayed over her flat stomach. "You're quiet," he said against her shoulder, listening to the soft sound of rain sheeting against the window, thinking he could stay here with her like this forever, wrapped around her and filled with the warmth of their connection.  
  
Turning her head, Caitlin pressed a kiss to his upper arm. "I was just thinking about Faith." She rolled onto her back, gazing up at him. "We had lunch today, and she...she just doesn't seem happy."  
  
Smoothing her dark hair back, Mike kissed her cheek. "She's still getting over her miscarriage, Cait."  
  
"I know, but she...she wants to marry Rey," Caitlin sighed, rubbing her hand over his forearm. "And I just don't see that ever happening."  
  
"Maybe it will. Who knows?"  
  
"Sure, and she'll be happy," Caitlin muttered sarcastically. "How's she gonna feel when he cheats on her?"  
  
Mike groaned. They'd had this conversation at least a dozen times, and they always seemed to go around in circles without ever reaching an agreement. He didn't want to talk about this tonight. He simply wanted to enjoy being with her. "Cait-"  
  
She sat up to look down at him, holding the ivory sheet to her chest. "He cheated on his wife, Mike. Men who cheat don't suddenly reform," she reminded him seriously. "I've been there. If they do it once, they'll do it again."  
  
Sighing, Mike folded his hands behind his head, realizing the conversation couldn't be avoided. "Cait, she cheated on him, too, remember?"  
  
Caitlin frowned, dragging a hand through her tousled hair. "I'm not excusing her. I'm only saying-"  
  
"Yeah, yeah, I know. If he can forget he was married, once, he'll forget again," Mike uttered the words with a bored tone, tasting their familiarity. Grinning, he tugged the sheet away from her and hefted himself up to a sitting position, one hand curling around her waist, the other smoothing over her hip. "Cait...I don't want to talk about Faith's love life tonight," he said lowly, bending his head to nip at her ear lightly. "I'd much rather concentrate on ours."  
  
Sighing, Caitlin tilted her head to afford him better access to her neck. "Do you ever want to forget you're married?"  
  
"Never," Mike growled, capturing her mouth and kissing her hard. "Not for a moment."  
  
**  
  
Apartment of Duane Morey New York City Monday 7:03 a.m.  
  
Faith Morrison paused in the doorway, glancing in at the officers milling around the small, bare, dirty apartment. Her eyes fell on her partner standing over the body, arguing with a CSU tech. Mike waved a hand expressively, and even from a distance, Faith could hear the biting sarcasm in his deep voice. Nodding at an uniformed officer, Faith made her way over to the tall detective. "So what have we got?"  
  
Mike glanced down at her, weariness apparent in the lines of his face. "Another one with a bullet to the head," he replied darkly. "This is...what? The third one in a week?"  
  
Faith nodded. "Same MO?"  
  
"Yep." Mike gestured around the room. "No sign of a struggle. Murder weapon's on the floor near the body." He grinned suddenly, making his handsome face seem suddenly boyish. "Bet only the vic's prints are on the gun."  
  
"I hate you," Faith said mildly. "You're almost as bad as Cait. You're always right."  
  
Mike laughed. "No one's ever that right," he retorted. "I'm telling you, it's a complete waste of time to argue with that woman."  
  
"So why do you do it?" Faith asked idly, rifling through papers on the victim's Formica dinette table.  
  
Picking up the phone bill Faith had just dropped, Mike grinned irresistibly. "Because the make-up sex is unbelievable."  
  
Shaking her head, Faith chuckled. "Okay, let's go talk to Mr... .Morey's neighbors and see if they heard anything."  
  
"Yeah, right," Mike muttered sarcastically, following her out the door into the hallway. "Speaking of a waste of time...  
  
**  
  
"So what do you think?" Mike asked, dropping into his desk chair and loosening his tie. "Three guys shot the same way in a week."  
  
"Revenge?" Faith mused. "Why else would you shoot someone between the eyes with his own gun?"  
  
"To keep them quiet?" Mike replied. He picked up his cup, draining off his cold coffee. "Maybe they all knew something they shouldn't."  
  
"Maybe. But first we have to put them all together." Faith picked up Duane Morey's file. "Where do you want to start?"  
  
Mike sighed. "The girlfriend."  
  
**  
  
Apartment of Lezlee James 2:48 p.m.  
  
"What did Duane do for a living, Ms. James?" Faith asked, sitting down on the threadbare couch. She let her eyes trail over the bare furnishings of the tiny apartment and shivered slightly in the cool room.  
  
Lezlee James brushed at the smeared mascara under her eyes, sniffling loudly. "He...he was an entrepreneur."  
  
Mike pushed away from the wall, arms crossed over his chest, a cynical look in his eyes. "You mean he was a dealer."  
  
Lezlee looked up at him angrily. "Not anymore," she snapped, gripping her hands together tightly in her lap. "He quit that after those agents got killed. He wanted out then. He's been selling sunglasses down on the corner."  
  
"Ah-ha. Sunglasses," Mike said, nodding sagely and glancing at Faith, disbelief plain on his face. "Tell us about the dead agents."  
  
"You're so smart," Lezlee gibed, jumping to her feet, her face marred by an ugly expression. "You find out."  
  
**  
  
27th Precinct 4:59 p.m.  
  
"Hey, was that it?" Mike asked as Faith returned from the fax machine.  
  
Faith was skimming through the four page fax. "Yeah." She looked up and grinned. "The agent in charge? His name's Ransome. Wonder if it's a relation."  
  
Mike grimaced at the reference to his wife's partner, leaning back in his chair. "God help us. There can't be two of them. So? Is there anything we can use?"  
  
Faith shrugged, dropping into her chair, ignoring its protesting squeak, and passed him the fax. "You look."  
  
"Okay. Let's see." Mike glanced over the blurry print. "Thirteen months ago in north Texas. Seems Mr. Morey and some of his 'business associates' had a mobile meth lab in a small RV. DEA went in on a raid."  
  
He paused and Faith huffed impatiently. "And?"  
  
Face grim, Mike glanced up at her. "And it was booby-trapped. The camper exploded, killing three agents and critically injured two others. DEA's been looking for Morey and his buddies ever since."  
  
"Guess someone found him," Faith joked darkly, pushing her hair back from her face wearily.  
  
"And his buddies, too," Mike said, reading further and holding out the report for her to see. "Our other vics, Jeff Gandy and Tommy Bennefield."  
  
"And there's one other," Faith said, pointing at the name. "Roberto Curtis." She glanced at her watch. "All right, let's call the DEA and see if the agents in charge are available to talk to us today, since we couldn't get them Saturday."  
  
Mike groaned, seeing where this was going. "And I'll call Cait and tell her I'm not gonna make it for dinner again."  
  
**  
  
6:49 p.m.  
  
Faith hung up her phone, almost slamming it into the cradle, and Mike glanced up at her, his eyes widening at the perturbed look on her face. "What's wrong?"  
  
Running a hand through her hair, Faith sighed. "I can't find Rey. He was supposed to pick me up, and I already had to ask Cait to get Chloe from school. She's at your place." She eyed the reports he was correlating. "How close to done are you?"  
  
Leaning back in his chair, Mike stretched. "Not nearly," he replied. "And I really wanted to get this done, Faith."  
  
She nodded, getting to her feet and pulling on her coat. "I'm taking a cab to get Chloe, then I'm going home. If you see Rey, tell him I said to go to hell."  
  
Mike chuckled, eyes drifting back to his reports. "Sure. Whatever you say, Faith."  
  
**  
  
Apartment of Mike Logan and Caitlin Falconetti 8:56 p.m.  
  
Faith checked her watch, watching Chloe busily work on a puzzle on Caitlin's carpet. Caitlin looked at Faith, head tipped to one side, her curiosity heightened by the look of impatience on Faith's face. "You try his cell phone yet?"  
  
Faith looked up, chewing on her bottom lip. "He's not answering it. Batteries are probably dead or something."  
  
"Precinct?"  
  
Shaking her head, Faith picked at a nonexistent thread on the dark green skirt she'd just picked up from the dry-cleaners. "He was gone when I left. Lennie hasn't seen him since either."  
  
"Beeper?"  
  
Leveling her best friend with a cool look, Faith rubbed her forehead with her hand. "Cait, please ..." After a long moment, she glanced down at her daughter, who wasn't paying attention to her mother or Caitlin. "He probably forgot it in the car or something."  
  
"I'm sure," Caitlin said insincerely. Moving onto the couch beside her friend, Caitlin slid an arm around Faith's shoulders. "You're really having problems, aren't you?"  
  
Faith shrugged from beneath Caitlin's arm, moving away to sit on the other end of the couch, watching Chloe successfully place the last piece of the puzzle in its place, revealing a picture of a large purple fish. Chloe flashed a triumphant smile up at her mother, and Faith smiled, leaning down to smooth her daughter's curls from her round, pixie face. "Good job, honey. Why don't you go get your juice out of the fridge and the crackers out of your backpack? We might be having a late supper." Chloe scampered off and Faith turned to Caitlin, sighing. "Define 'problems'."  
  
"Problems? Difficulties?" Caitlin elaborated. "Have you been fighting more? Is he still pressuring you about the baby thing?"  
  
Chewing on her bottom lip, Faith leaned her head against the back of the couch. "Yes, yes, yes, and yes," she said miserably. "Everything is so ... strained." She ran a hand nervously through her hair. "I don't know. It's weird. We'll fight for a couple of days and then one night ...bam! We're back in bed, telling each other that 'oh, my God, I love you, you're the only one for me, you're the only one' ..." her voice trailed away. "I always was afraid of this."  
  
"Afraid of what?" Caitlin asked quietly.  
  
Faith looked up and her, and Caitlin was surprised to see tears in her dark eyes. "That we were only compatible in bed," she explained, and Caitlin understood. She'd had the same fear when she and Mike were first involved, when it seemed that was all he wanted from her, her sexual response to him. "I mean, the other night we had a huge fight about the girls, and fifteen minutes later, we were making love on the living room floor. This morning we were fighting again. He's always had a problem with me working and he's always had problems with how I've raised Chloe and ..." she sighed, rubbing a hand over her eyes. "I don't know, Cait. We ... we can't seem to agree on anything. Lately it seems like we fight six days out of seven and then end up falling into bed together. The next day we start all over again. I mean, I love him so much, Cait. We worked so hard to make this work." Throwing her hands in the air, she ran her fingers over the strand of gold around her throat. "I don't know. Maybe I should just get pregnant and end the whole friggin' mess."  
  
"Oh, that'll make everything all better? Having his baby?" Caitlin asked, leaning her head back against the plush cushions. "Or is he just going to expect you to quit your job? And maybe move out of the city? And then maybe have another kid after that and go to a PTA meeting?"  
  
Faith glared at her, hating her for seeing so much. "Stop it, Cait."  
  
"Maybe he'll custody of the girls, and you'll have all four precious angels to take care of. You'll have four girls who'll get sore throats and chicken pox and fight over dolls and ..." Caitlin stopped, looking at her friend sympathetically. "Oh, Faith ..." she said, biting her lip. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean anything. I'm just saying ..."  
  
Faith raised her dark eyes sadly. "You're just saying ...?"  
  
"I'm just saying that I never quite pictured you that way. You know, in a minivan and sweatpants, carting your kids to soccer practice and piano lessons." Caitlin leaned over and squeezed Faith's hand, firmly. "Faith, I'm sorry. Don't listen to me. I mean, you have four kids and I have none. Maybe I'm just jealous."  
  
Faith shrugged, wiping at her eyes. "Or maybe he's not the one. Maybe I'm not supposed to be with Rey. Maybe there's a guy out there, waiting for me. One who doesn't care if I have a kid or not."  
  
"Listen." Caitlin leaned over and Faith rested her head on her shoulder, sighing heavily. "Do you love him?" Faith nodded, sniffling, and Caitlin stroked her friend's dark hair. "I wouldn't five up on him yet. If you still love him ..."  
  
Faith was gazing into the kitchen where Chloe sat, chomping on her crackers and swinging her feet, humming sweetly. "Yes, I love him," she said quietly. "I love him so much it hurts. I just don't want to lose him. He's such a good father, and Chloe adores his girls, and he wants to have a big family, and I could be such a good mother to his girls, and Rey just wants a baby. There's nothing wrong with having another-"  
  
Caitlin stood up as Mike's keys jingled in the lock. "Maybe Faith should do what Faith wants and not what everyone else does." Leaving her on the couch to ponder this thought, Caitlin went to meet Mike at the door, going into his arms and turning her mouth up to his. "Hello," she murmured, grinning.  
  
Mike wrapped his arms around her tightly, kissing her firmly, anticipation glowing in his eyes. "Hello..." he said, cupping her hips against his, pressing his forehead against hers. "God, I missed you. I didn't think I'd ever get home-" He heard a throat cleared behind them, and his eyes jumped to meet the teasing gaze of his partner. "Faith? Rey hasn't shown up yet?"  
  
Faith chuckled, embarrassed that she had interrupted them. "He wasn't at the precinct, was he?"  
  
Mike let Caitlin go with a quick kiss, shaking his head as he walked into the kitchen, laughing when Chloe launched herself into his arms giggling. "Nope. He wasn't there. Why? You want me to give you a ride?"  
  
Faith sighed, checking her watch again. "It's getting late. Maybe you should ..." she sighed, taking Chloe from him and stroking her hair gently as her daughter laid her head on her shoulder. "I think this little one is about ready for bed, aren't you, munchkin?" Chloe yawned and Faith smiled up at Mike hopefully. "Do you mind? Maybe Rey's already on his way home."  
  
Caitlin watched as Faith gathered their belongings, biting on her bottom lip. "Maybe."  
  
**  
  
Rey pulled on his shirt, wondering when the guilt would come. Checking the bedside clock. Faith was going to kill him. He should have picked her and Chloe up hours ago. He hadn't meant to stay so long; he hadn't intended to do what he did.  
  
He just couldn't help himself.  
  
Buttoning up his shirt, he waited for the guilt to set in, for the pain of his Catholic guilt to rip through his stomach. With a sigh, he looked over at the woman who lay in the bed, a soft smile on her lovely face. "I-I'm sorry, Deborah. I've got to go."  
  
Deborah brushed her dark hair out of her face and sat up, holding the sheet to her chest. "Oh, Rey ..." she whispered, pressing her mouth to his cheek as he leaned over her. "I wish you'd stay ... I love you." The words were familiar from her lips, and he gazed down at her, his eyes warm.  
  
"Kiss the girls for me, okay?" he asked, tugging on his shoes and standing up. He picked his rumpled suit jacket up from the floor and tossed it over his shoulder. He kissed her softly. "Good night."  
  
Deborah smiled, lying back against the pillows, the smile not quite hiding the mingled pain and hope in her eyes. "Good night, Rey."  
  
**  
  
Faith settled Chloe in the car seat, the little girl stirring in her sleep, yawning, peacefully. Mike smiled into the back seat, eyes warm on her child. She slipped into the passenger seat. "Believe me. They're cuter when they're asleep."  
  
Mike chuckled as he started the car. "I'll bet." Glancing over his shoulder, he pulled into the street. "Like I'd know."  
  
Faith caught the odd tone in his voice and reached over to squeeze his hand. "Mike, don't. It's not your fault." The buildings grew darker as they drove along the nearly deserted street, construction sites looming on both sides. "If you're going to blame anyone, blame Tyler Ford."  
  
"I worry about her, Faith," Mike said wearily, turning his head to look at her. "I just wish I could give her ... you know. It's killing her inside. She's not getting over it, no matter how hard she pretends she is. I can see how much it hurts her." He sighed, shrugging. "I don't know. I never thought of myself as a father, you know."  
  
Faith chuckled, glancing at him with wise, knowing eyes. "Hey, Logan. I know about the 'No Kids' rule. I think you forget who you're talking to." They exchanged a look, and Faith sighed, patting his knee warmly. "Don't worry about it, Mike. She'll be okay, I promise. We're talking about Cait, remember? She's not exactly what I would call a shrinking violet, you know?"  
  
Mike laughed, and suddenly the car lurched, violently. "What the hell-?" Mike muttered, slamming his hands, angrily, against the steering wheel, pulling over. The car lurched again as they pulled along the shoulder. Mike swore under his breath, throwing a quick smile at Faith. "Must be you."  
  
"Damn it," Faith glanced at Mike, nervously reaching over to pull Chloe's pant legs down that had crept up her legs. "Mike, we're in the middle of nowhere."  
  
"I'll look," Mike said, pushing open the door, popping the hood and getting out. Faith sighed, brushing her hair from her face and closing her eyes, tiredly.  
  
After a long moment, she leaned over the console. "Come on, Mike. You can look under the hood all you want, but it doesn't fool me-"  
  
"Hey, enough with the car illiteracy jokes, Morrison," Mike shouted back. "It looks like the engine. It-" There was a slight noise from the front of the car, and Mike was silent. After a long moment of quiet, Faith felt a small jab of fear begin to burn in her stomach. Why didn't he answer her?  
  
"Mike?" she paused, listening intently. "Mike?" she said, louder. "Mike, what's-"  
  
"Faith?" Mike's voice was almost too-loud. His footsteps crunched slowly and Faith sighed, relieved and becoming annoyed.  
  
"Mike, come on, stop fooling around. I just want to get out of here," Faith complained, impatiently listening as his shoes hit the gravel, as if his feet were too heavy to lift. His body appeared in the open door, not moving. She sat back, staring at him. "Mike, what the hell's the matter with you?"  
  
The readied click of a handgun froze the blood in her veins as another hand snaked around Mike's waist. "Get out of the car. On the driver's side. Now."  
  
"Faith, stay in the car," Mike's voice was low and monotonous, the tone frightening her. He was hauled backwards, she heard the sickening sound of a gun butt striking flesh, and Mike grunted painfully. "Faith, don't get out, do you understand? Stay in the car."  
  
"I said, get out of the car," the voice ordered, enraged at her balking.  
  
"Lock the door and call 911," Mike said, louder, and she heard the pain in his voice.  
  
"Move!" The gun was aimed at her, and she pressed against the passenger door, trembling. Her mind was racing. Christ, there was no one on this road tonight. What the hell did this guy want with them? If anything happened to Chloe...her fingers slid over the controls on her door, eyes focused on the gun. She quickly pressed the power locks, her other hand searching in her coat pocket for her own gun. Instantly, the gun was off her and pointed at the sleeping child in the backseat.  
  
"No!" she shrieked, scrambling towards the backseat in a blind attempt to put her body between her baby and the madman outside the car. Steadying her voice, she held up her hands, trembling. "Please. Please, I'll get out. Don't hurt her. I'll get out."  
  
"Faith, stay in the car!" Mike hollered, his voice shaking.  
  
"Get out, or she's dead, bitch!" the shadowy figure screamed, a black gloved finger sliding against the trigger. Faith jumped, shakily into the driver's seat. Her foot tangled in Chloe's backpack, and she lost control, damning herself for her clumsiness as she tripped and hit the gravel, putting down her hands and landing full on her chest. Swinging one of her legs, she slammed the door shut, hearing it click and knowing her baby was locked safely inside. Feet shuffled, and she was yanked up and thrown forcefully against the car, the man's hand pressed ruthlessly against the back of her neck, the other hand roaming over her body, searching with chilling professionalism, pulling her cell phone from her pocket and throwing it over his shoulder. She felt his hips press against her, and a cold sickness of reality churned in her stomach as a hand slithered around her waist and slipped under her shirt, turning them both slowly around. Mike was facing them, on his knees, eyes blazing with cold fury. She met her partner's eyes and tried to assure him silently that she was all right. The left side of his face was badly bruised, and a slow trickle of blood leaked from a cut on his right temple.  
  
"Let her go," Mike spat out, his hands behind his back.  
  
"Shut up," the figure said, from behind a black foam ski mask that covered his face up to his eyes. He was clad in a black hooded sweatshirt that covered his head, under a black leather jacket. The jacket had an unsettling familiar smell. She breathed deeply, and the oxygen caught in her throat as the arm around her waist tightened. "Don't you get it? It's her I want, Logan."  
  
She let out a shuddery, terrified breath as the realization hit her like a deathly blow. Her lips formed his name, fear coursing through every inch of her body. "Alex..."  
  
The arm was like a steel vise around her middle and she gasped at the pain. "That's right, Faithy-baby," Alex Krycek pushed the mask off to press his lips, roughly, against her jaw. "Happy to see me again, babe? You look good."  
  
"Leave her alone, Krycek," Mike said, a cold threat in his voice.  
  
"Or you'll what? Shoot me? With what?" Krycek asked, laughing. He waved his gun and pressed Mike's gun into her waist, delighted at her pained intake of breath. "Sic your bitch of a wife on me?" Mike's eyes flamed again, and Krycek chuckled, pressing a knee against the back of Faith's legs to knock her off balance. He swung her around, kissing her neck, violently. "Maybe I want to be alone with the missus. Don't get jealous on me, Mikey. You had your shot at this piece of work." He wrapped his other arm around her neck, gun tracing her throat, softly. Faith jerked her head away, chest heaving, eyes intent on Krycek's face. "Guess one man's loss is another man's gain, huh, Logan?" He shoved his hand up Faith's shirt and groped, laughing out loud at his joke and Faith's whimpers of terrified protest as she tried to break away.  
  
"I said leave her the hell alone!" Mike hollered, voice cracking.  
  
"I said shut the hell up!" Horrified, Faith watched as Krycek, with a sickening, too fast motion, squeezed the trigger on the gun, its sleek silencer in place. Krycek held her jaw in place forcibly as she tried to turn her eyes away, and Faith saw the hole pierce magically the left shoulder of Mike's white dress shirt. With a gasp, she heard the surprised sound of pain, horrified as his eyes met hers.  
  
His lips moved, and cold terror washed over her. "Run." Screaming, Faith watching Mike fall forward onto the dirt. Numb realization slowly dawned and out of nowhere, she heard her own voice scream his name.  
  
"Mike!"  
  
"I told you to shut the fuck up, you stupid son of a bitch!" Krycek threw Faith onto the ground, knocking her head against the car, an assurance she would stay put. He began kicking Mike's limp body in blind rage. Faith closed her eyes against the pain and dragged herself up, screaming at the top of her lungs. Her head ached, protesting, but she began to run, reaching down to pick up a good-sized chunk of gravel. With all her might, screaming like a woman possessed, she hurled it at the windshield of the sleek black Mustang. A crack sliced it's way up, and the alarm went off, lights flashing. She heard Chloe begin to scream, and Krycek spun around, gun in hand, eyes narrowing on her, demonically.  
  
"You dumb bitch."  
  
Faith glanced wildly at the car, hearing her daughter shrieking in confused panic. With a desperate scream, she began to run towards the building that sat silent in the distance. His footsteps pounded behind her, and she was cut off mid-scream as he caught her in a flying tackle, her body bouncing along the ground. He was murderously furious, back handing her and hauling her up by her hair to drag her, screaming, back towards the car. She stared at Mike's unmoving body and screamed for him, sobbing.  
  
Krycek knocked out the driver's side window with the butt of his semi- automatic, Chloe screaming in terror as he unlocked the door and pulled his daughter out by an arm. Dragging them over to a black, silent car, he literally tossed Chloe into the back seat. Faith shrieked obscenities as he shoved her into the passenger seat, threw the car in gear and screeched onto the deserted street. Faith spun in her seat, eyes frozen on Mike's shrinking body. Chloe howled, confusedly.  
  
"You son of a bitch!" she screamed, sobbing. "You crazy son of a bitch, if you killed him, I'll fucking-"  
  
Krycek, never taking his eyes from the road, slapped her again. She clamped her mouth shut, muffled sobs racking her body. Chloe was silent, eyes huge and black, tears running down her cheeks. "If you don't shut up," Krycek said, low in his throat, eyes intent on the road. "I'll kill you." Faith covered her mouth with both hands, sucking in oxygen in desperation, trying to stop the tears. Dragging in a hitching breath, she pulled Chloe into the front seat, rocking the trembling, dangerously quiet angel in her arms. She stroked her hair, burying her face in her sweet- smelling hair. "It's gonna be all right, baby. It's gonna be all right..."  
  
**  
  
The apartment was dark as Rey entered, and he sighed, rubbing a hand over his face nervously. "Faith?" he called, knowing she wouldn't answer him. God, she wasn't home yet. That meant she was still at Falconetti's and that she'd been there for over three hours. He shouldn't have promised to pick her up tonight. Checking his watch, he grimaced. Ten-thirty. "Damn," he muttered, picking up his cell phone. Chloe wouldn't be in bed until eleven for sure. Why the hell hadn't Faith taken a cab home, he wondered irritably, dropping onto the couch and punching in Caitlin's number.  
  
"Hello?" Caitlin's voice was sleepy, as though she'd just woken up.  
  
Rey paused, the burn of hatred for the woman on the other end of the phone line beginning in his chest. "Yeah, it's Rey. Can I talk to Faith?"  
  
"She's not here." Caitlin's voice was cold, full of the same hatred he felt.  
  
Rey sighed impatiently. "Well, could you tell me where she is?"  
  
"What time is it?" Caitlin hissed in a sudden breath. "Mike left to take her and Chloe home over an hour ago ..." A sudden note of uneasiness colored her voice. "They're...they're not home yet?"  
  
Rey picked up on the tension in her voice and swallowed hard. "An hour ago? Have you tried calling them yet?"  
  
"No...I dozed off and..." Caitlin said quietly. "I will, though."  
  
**  
  
In her apartment, Caitlin broke the connection and immediately dialed the car phone number, her nervousness growing as the phone rang and rang and rang without answer. Hanging up, she immediately dialed Mike's beeper, followed by Faith's cellular number. "Dammit, Mike, where are you?" she muttered, pacing up and down the living room, listening to Faith's number ring unanswered. If he'd stopped off somewhere without calling, which he was wont to do, she'd kill him. Literally kill him. She teased him about still thinking he was single and not having to let her know where he was, but tonight it wasn't funny. Not at all. Her intuition was suddenly awake, the little voice screaming that things were not well.  
  
Not well at all ...  
  
**  
  
Rey stopped in the doorway to the squad room, glancing around for Faith or Mike, and finding neither. Their desks were empty, chairs pushed in neatly the way Faith liked. Rey's partner, Lennie Briscoe, was at his desk, speaking intensely into his phone, and Rey strode over to him, worry pushing hard in his throat. "Lennie? Have you seen Faith?"  
  
Lennie swiveled away in his chair, holding up a hand in an imperious gesture, murmuring into the receiver. Rey sighed heavily and glanced around once more, tugging a hand through his short, dark hair. Lennie replaced his phone and looked up at Rey, rubbing at his mouth wearily. "Rey ... look, Rey, I don't know how to tell you this, but-"  
  
Dread shivered down Rey's spine icily. "What?"  
  
"Something ... something has happened to Faith and Mike. I don't know what, exactly, but 911 got a call from Mike... I was just on my way, but it doesn't look good." Lennie was on his feet, hurriedly pulling on his jacket. "Logan passed out before he could give any details ... but he said he'd been shot . .."  
  
"Oh, my God," Rey whispered in a raw voice, fear clutching his chest tightly. "Faith ..."  
  
**  
  
The phone rang shrilly, and Caitlin snatched it up from the coffee table. "Mike? Mike, I swear to God, I'm going to-"  
  
"Caitlin?" Rey's voice was tight, filled with fear. "This is Rey. Lennie and I are heading out to ... Roosevelt Avenue and Avenue D. We got a 911 call, and we're not sure what happened, but we think Mike's been shot." Her startled, strangled gasp rang in his ears, and he rushed on. "That's all I know, but I'll call you as soon as I know something, okay? Stay there, Cait, I mean it-"  
  
"Like hell," Caitlin snapped, grabbing her jacket and keys. "I'll meet you there."  
  
**  
  
The unmarked Crown Victoria slid to a stop behind two marked units, their lights coloring the night an eerie, flashing shade of red. Rey was out of the car before Lennie even had it in park, running, running through the flashing lights and the jumble of police and medical personnel, fear pounding relentlessly at his temples.  
  
"Faith? Faith!" he shouted as he reached the edge of the taped off scene, Lennie on his heels. He stopped short at the sight of the familiar Mustang sitting by the side of the street, hood up, windshield cracked, the driver's side window shattered all over the front seat. Chloe's booster seat sat empty, forlorn, in the back seat.  
  
Fear and panic twisted low in his stomach, making him ill. A uniformed officer caught his arm. "Whoa, buddy, you can't be here-" he stopped as Lennie held up his badge.  
  
"Who's the detective in charge?" Lennie asked quietly.  
  
"Detective Halston," the officer...O'Malley, his badge said...pointed the short, wiry detective out but Rey didn't hear. His concentration was broken by the sight of two paramedics lifting Mike Logan's limp, unconscious body onto a stretcher. Where was Faith? And Chloe? Where in the name of God were they?  
  
Breaking into a sprint, Rey ran to the ambulance. "Logan? Logan, where's Faith? What the hell happened?"  
  
Logan's eyes flickered open, dilated with pain and shock. "She ... oh, God ...took her ..."  
  
"Who?" Rey demanded hoarsely, shaking the other detective's uninjured arm roughly. "Who took her?"  
  
"Krycek ..." The word faded into a whisper as Logan lapsed into unconsciousness again, the EMT pushing a stunned, horror-stricken Rey away.  
  
"Mike!" The anguished scream caught his attention, and Rey turned to see Caitlin fighting off Lennie's restraining grip. She ran for the ambulance, her face paling at the sight of Mike's limp body. "Oh, my God," she whispered, eyes locked on the white bandage covering his shoulder where the white dress shirt had been cut away, blood soaking quickly through the sterile gauze dressing. His face was bruised, and blood trickled thickly from the cut on his temple. Gingerly, she touched his cheek, linking her fingers through his, frightened tears choking in her throat. "Mike ..."  
  
"Lady, we've got to go," the EMT said impatiently, and Caitlin nodded dazedly, backing away as they lifted the stretcher into the waiting ambulance.  
  
She caught one of the EMTs by the arm. "Can I go with you?"  
  
He shook his head, eyes softening slightly at the fear darkening her eyes. "Sorry, no room." He shrugged and started to climb into the back of the vehicle. "We're taking him to General."  
  
Caitlin watched the ambulance pull away, then she turned to Rey, her eyes wide and dark in her pale face. "Oh, my God," she whispered, staring beyond him at her ruined car. "Where the hell is Faith?"  
  
** 


End file.
